


Pancakes

by ungracefulfalling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angsty Schmoop, Birthday Presents, M/M, Pancakes, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i dont know what im doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1205065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ungracefulfalling/pseuds/ungracefulfalling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sits up slowly, and his neck aches, a direct result of Cas grabbing his waist and sleeping for 12 hours with his head under Dean’s chin. Dean rubs the back of his neck groaning, trying to keep his head down to dull the pain in his vertebrae. Hanging his head down doesn’t last long, however, when someone somewhere in the bunker is making food that smells really fucking delicious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> -I woke up at 1 a.m. on Dean's birthday with the urge to write some horribly fluffy things. This has not been edited or proof read, hence being written at 1 am, so excuse mistakes, I apologize.
> 
> -Despite being in this fandom for a few years, I have stuck to mainly writing original things, so this is actually the first fic I wrote for the Supernatural fandom. I'm sorry for any overall crappiness
> 
> -Any feedback would be greatly appreciated, especially constructive criticism, because I really want to know how to make these fics better- thanks!

The sounds he wakes up to are padded feet walking across hardwood floors and muffled whispers (probably because his face is still stuffed into a pillow).

He sits up slowly, and his neck aches, a direct result of Cas grabbing his waist and sleeping for 12 hours with his head under Dean’s chin. Dean rubs the back of his neck groaning, trying to keep his head down to dull the pain in his vertebrae. Hanging his head down doesn’t last long, however, when  _someone somewhere_ in the bunker is making food that smells  _really fucking delicious._

The smells are rich and decadent and they take over his senses. It smells sweet like syrup and thick like butter and flour. Someone in the bunker is making pancakes at about 8 am and Dean doesn’t know if he is more confused or delighted. He jumps out of the bed, ignoring the screaming of his neck. He throws on a t-shirt and pajama bottoms hastily and practically  _runs_  into the kitchen.

*

Kevin is seated quietly at the table, going over ineligible scribbles, occasionally glancing up at the two men who are trying (and failing) to make pancakes. Kevin laughs to himself at the ungracefully tall Sam Winchester leaning over burning stovetops and reaching across ovens and other fire hazards, while Castiel watches like a concerned child. Twice so far Cas has had to smack Sam’s arm or leg with an oven mitt or towel because an arm of a flannel or a pant leg caught fire.

“Cas, are you actually telling me you don’t know how to crack an egg?” Sam asks frustrated, after he had destroyed at least half of the dozen eggs with his unsuccessful cracking methods. Cas glared at him and proceeded to roll his eyes.

“You have been human for much longer than I have,” he retaliated. “Are you telling me that  _you_  don’t know how to crack an egg?”

Charlie barked out a laugh from the sofa in the living room, where she sat in her lounge pants and Star Trek shirt flipping through the bunker’s limited TV selection. She turned her attention away from the television and to the two men who were currently looking defeated and worn out. She gave an exasperated sigh and stood up from her place on the couch.

“You’re lucky it’s Dean’s birthday, you asshats,” she laughed as she pushed herself in between Sam and Cas. Cas watched with awe as Charlie’s nimble fingers made a crack in the egg by tapping it against the mixing bowl, then pulling it apart and dropping the yolk into the powder. She wiped her hands on a wet towel and turned to Kevin, who was still studying his notes.

“Hey, Prophet Boy, you gonna help cook some pancakes or what?”

*

The sight that Dean walked in on was one of the funniest things he had seen in a long time.

Kevin’s books, notes, and scribbles lay abandoned over the kitchen table, and in the middle of the notes one plate, full of pancakes, that is still growing when Dean walks in. There are four people huddled around the stovetop, Kevin and Charlie in the middle, giving Cas and Sam detailed strategies on how to pour the batter onto the skillet to create the perfect pancake. Half of Sam’s sleeve is burnt to a crisp, and Charlie may or may not have some eggshell in her hair. Kevin looks happier than Dean has seen him in a very long time, a wide smile and a loud laugh.

Cas catches his eye and Dean’s too-big pajama pants hang slightly off of his sharp hipbones, and  _yes_ , that gets Dean a little distracted, until he realizes what Kevin is laughing about and Dean’s eyes travel to Cas’ face.

If he hadn’t had an explanation he would have thought that Cas walked up to a baker and asked him to throw a bowl of batter at him. There were bits and pieces of pancake stuck in tufts of his hair and wet batter trailing down the side of his face, around his eyes, and around his face and cheeks. And he looked absolutely  _ecstatic_ about being completely covered in pancake batter.

Sam is the first to notice Dean standing speechless in the hallway and he smiles and practically yells, “there’s the birthday boy!” That has 3 more heads turning in his direction, all smiling. Dean can’t tell if it is because they’re happy to see him, or they’re still on a pancake making high.

Charlie is the first one to run to him and wrap her arms around his neck. He hugs her back and she whispers a “happy birthday” in his ear before letting go and returning to Kevin to help him flip the third round of pancakes.

“You guys really didn’t have to do this, I don’t deserve it,” Dean starts, but Kevin cuts him off.

“Shut up, Dean, you are going to eat these god damn birthday pancakes if I have to force feed them to you.”

That sends all of them in to hysterics until they calm down and Cas says softly, “and you do deserve it, Dean.” He pretends not to hear.

*

They aren’t sure if eating the pancakes is as much fun as making them, but Dean is in love with them and has at least 8. Everyone else follows suit.

Cas declares that he enjoys pancakes, it being the first time he’s ever tried one, and everyone is pretty sure that he eats more than Sam and Charlie do together. Halfway through the breakfast, Dean runs a hand through Cas’ hair, which he realizes still, has bits of pancake stuck in it.

“What the hell happened to you, man?” he asks, laughing. Cas looks at him and smiles and then reaches a hand into his own hair to pick out a particularly burnt piece of one.

“There was a pastry mishap,” he shrugs taking another bite of another pancake.

The breakfast goes by smoothly, everyone enjoying food and making jokes about how  _old_  Dean is now  _(I’m only 35 you assholes!)_ And Cas is the first to jump to his defense reminding the entire table that he is  _“like a hundred billion years old.”_ Soon Dean realizes he just  _has_  to ask.

“Why did you guys decide to make pancakes?” he asks after the breakfast and “pastry mishap” are cleaned up. The five of them are lounging on the couch and armchairs surrounding the television, where a Game of Thrones marathon has been going on for about an hour. Kevin is curled up in one of the armchairs with his notes again, sometimes watching the show absentmindedly. Charlie and Sam are sharing the other armchair, arguing about the importance of minor vs. major characters, and gradually getting off topic and talking about demons, then aliens, and then  _time lords_  or something like that. Dean is on the couch, his head is Cas’ lap while Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair and puts his feet up on the small table in the centre.

The question makes Sam and Cas laugh and Kevin roll his eyes.

“These two idiots don’t know how to crack a friggin’ egg,” Charlie snorts. Before Sam or Cas can come up with an argument Kevin interjects, “yep, and Sam can’t move to grab a stick of butter without setting his arm on fire.”

Dean laughs at that, because yes, his sasquatch of a brother is not exactly smooth or graceful in any of his movements. Cas points a finger at Charlie and laughs. “Hey, in my defense, I have been human for only a few months now. Logically would you expect a 6 month old baby to be able to successfully crack an egg or make a pancake?”

Confused looks were shared across the room and Sam shrugged. “Dean has been cooking for me since I’m 6 months old. I guess I never really learned how to make my own pancake.”

Kevin gave a half smile at that and Charlie squealed, hitting Sam in the arm lightly. “You’re such a sap,” she squeaked at him. Dean gave Sam a fond smile and sat up from Cas’ lap to ruffle his brother’s hair.

“Well you better learn to cook your own damn food soon, because I want these pancakes every day for the rest of my life.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“You need to learn how to cook them without the help of your prophet and your genius,” Dean remarked ushering to Kevin and Charlie with his hand.

Charlie hummed in satisfaction and stared at the television screen trying to get caught up in the episode and Kevin laughed and returned to his notes.

*

The day was spent on the couch, to say the least, and no one had a problem with that whatsoever. Kevin translated a bit more of the angel tablet into cuneiform and Charlie and Sam got through the first season of Game of Thrones.

And Dean and Cas got to sneak a heated make-out session while Charlie was in the bathroom, Sam was in the library, and Kevin was asleep on his notes.

By the end of the night, Sam stabbed a candle into a cupcake and lit it. They didn’t sing or dance or laugh or move. It felt like none of them even breathed. The five of them stared at the flame at the top of the candle for a little while and they closed their eyes practically in sync.

On birthdays, spoiled children wish for more toys, and teenagers wish to find true love, and young adults wish to keep their newly found jobs, and adults wish to find peace and maybe a day off from work.

Kevin was a teenager that had all he loved taken from him. He didn’t even know if he believed in love anymore, so he wished with a sliver of hope that his mom was still alive and Crowley was lying. He wishes that soon the gates of hell and heaven will be closed and he won’t have to worry anymore. He can go back to his old life. It’s not his birthday, and he doesn’t know if that means the wish won’t come true, but right now he doesn’t care. He wishes for it to be over.

Charlie definitely did not intend to keep her job, let alone ever step in the building again. Charlie did not have a job to wish for, or a love to hope for. Her mother, the only person she loved that was left, was gone. Her job had been over run by monsters that she thought only existed in the comic books she had read since she was 12. It’s not her birthday, and she doesn’t know if that means the wish won’t come true, but she decides to be selfish for once in her life. She wishes for change.

Castiel didn’t understand the concept of wishing. He knew that wishing was something that humans usually did on the anniversary of their birth before blowing out a candle. Unlike the naïve humans, who believed that wishing could make things happen, Castiel knew that the only forces that made things happen were God and Fate, but he didn’t even know what he believed in anymore. He was confused as an angel, and being human only adds to the never-ending list of things that puzzle him. But right now, Cas realizes, that he is human, and he is going to do what they do. It’s not his birthday, he doesn’t even know if he has one of those, and in the back of his head there is a nag that tells him that wishing is pointless, because there is no way it can come true. But he doesn’t care. He wishes for wings.

Sam had never had peace. Never for once in his life had his life been even close to peaceful. He grew up a warrior, no time for rest, only fighting and killing and target practice. Even in Stanford, where he had a beautiful girlfriend and no worries because he had gotten away from the family business, he was swamped with work and stress and law school interviews. Sam had never really thought about peace. He always thought that peace and serenity were things that normal people had, and he was the farthest thing from normal. He had never been one for wishing either. He knew that you could wish for something all you wanted, but it would never happen. He thought on the logical side of things; why get your hopes up, when you know they will be crushed down anyway? It’s not his birthday, and he doesn’t know if he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even know what to wish for. He wishes for Dean’s wish to come true.

Dean keeps his eyes open while his family is wishing. Their faces are scrunched up in concentration, Cas the most because he has probably never wished in his life, and the thought makes Dean smile. He wonders if Kevin is wishing for a retake on his SAT’s, Charlie is wishing for a brand new computer or another series of Firefly, Cas is wishing for hamburgers and a better sense of humor, and Sam is wishing for someone like Jess to come back into his life. Dean looks at his family and smiles to himself. He wonders if they know that his wish already came true today. He blows out the candle.


End file.
